screamed, clutching his head in his hands as he collapsed to his knees. No matter how he tried to block out the sound--and resist its effect when he realized that was impossible--it seemed to have every neuron in his brain misfiring. His thoughts were no longer in his control, let alone his body.
Strange images flickered in between the bits and pieces of reality left to him. His own memories interspersed with ones he didn’t recognize. Someone else’s.
The changeling’s?
As he tried to make sense of them and regain some semblance of control, he saw the smaller ghoul walking toward Christopher.
“Stay back!” Christopher cried, the tree bursting into flame behind him.
The changeling continued his steady encroach, stopping to pick up the machete Colt had dropped, until he reached the burning tree. He brought the tip of the blade to Christopher’s throat, and just when Colt was certain he was going to behead the other ghoul, as Christopher himself seemed to be, the changeling cut the melting chain binding him instead.
At the same moment, the terrible, bubbling laughter ceased, allowing Colt to spring to his feet. Christopher wasted no time turning on him, and the moment the other Alpha lunged at him, his hands ablaze with flame, Colt knew he was the means of execution the changeling had chosen for his prey.
Colt’s lips curled back in a snarl as he caught the other ghoul by the throat with both hands and let his claws extend fully. Christopher grabbed him in return, his hands searing through Colt’s shirt and flesh.
A pained groan escaped Colt’s throat, but he wouldn’t release his grasp. He just kept squeezing, digging his claws in even deeper until he could feel the other ghoul’s flesh melting away underneath his fingertips. When his fingers hit something he assumed was Christopher’s windpipe, he went all in, pulling his hands apart until he had ripped the ghoul’s neck clean in two.
The moment Christopher’s head hit the grass with a sickly thump, Colt turned around to find the changeling disappearing into the woods. Before he could get one foot in front of the other, Christopher’s body exploded in a fiery blast.
Shit.
Colt went to the ground face first, debris and body parts flying around him. His head rang shrilly, but this time, it was from the blast rather than the changeling’s telepathic torment.
The earth itself seemed to move as he tried to push himself up, his long claws sinking to the dirt. When he finally managed to get to his knees, coughing through the smoke and stench of burning flesh, the changeling was gone.
It took every bit of willpower he possessed not to run after him. Jason was alive for now, but if he didn’t get to Richie, he wouldn’t be able to say the same for that kid.
Jason was alive for now, but if he didn’t get to Richie, he wouldn’t be able to say the same for that kid.
Sure enough, there was a fresh pile of earth and a sixth white cross at the end of the row. Colt dropped to his knees and tossed aside the small hand trowel that had been stuck into the dirt, as if to mock him.
He began tearing into the earth with his claws, digging deep until they hit something hard. He could hear the muffled screams coming from beneath the rough surface of the wood he had just unearthed and kept digging around it until he managed to get a hold on the edge of the tiny coffin lid.
The wood splintered easily in his grasp, and when Colt caught sight of the pale kid nestled inside the box, trembling and covered in dirt, he remembered to shift his monstrous features back to normal.
If Richie had caught a glimpse of anything, he was much too petrified to pay it any mind. He let out a strangled sob, followed immediately by choking as Colt pulled him out of the coffin and took him into his arms.
The boy clung to him with breathless cries, his bloodied fingers scraping across Colt’s shoulders. He’d obviously been trying to claw his way out of the coffin. The thought made Colt’s stomach churn, but he had to suppress his anger if he was going to help the kid.
He managed to peel Richie’s arms off him so he could get a better look at him. He didn’t seem to be physically injured, save for a few scratches on his face and the raw state of his fingertips. Colt was more worried about the rattling